


Time Is My Everything

by dvs



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor plans on looking after the Master. The Master is intent on escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Is My Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Post **_Last of the Time Lords_** | Thank you to Chelle for the beta, some great **Doctor Who** chats and answering a billion of my questions. | The fic is named after the awesome **Ian Brown** song _Time Is My Everything_.

## I.

The Master went into the TARDIS quietly, cuffed and smiling while the Doctor watched in silence, his hands fisted in his pockets.

Jack gave the Doctor an incredulous look and said, "You sure you're going to be able handle him?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to say, 'Not really,' but decided on, "I'm going to try."

"You're mad, you are," Martha said. "Going off with him."

"Maybe. Probably," the Doctor said, understanding that Martha wasn't to accompany them. He supposed she couldn't after what had happened. Martha's eyes looked glassy and she seemed to have much more to say, but then she glanced at the TARDIS as if she could feel the Master inside. She looked at the Doctor and pulled out her mobile phone, handing it to him.

"When that phone rings, you better pick it up," Martha told him. "Because it's definitely going to ring."

The Doctor smiled down at the phone and nodded before smiling at her and saying, "Thank you," meaning it more than she could imagine. They embraced and when Martha pulled away, she gave him a short look that said too much, kissing him on the cheek and then turning and walking away, back to her family.

For the first time ever, the Doctor turned to his TARDIS and stepped inside with apprehension.

The Master was smiling at him, full blast with a manic look in his eyes as he sat there hands still cuffed behind his back, now chained to the curve of the girder above him. Not that the Master was trying to get away, remaining seated and smiling, like he had the best of manners.

The Doctor keyed in a long trip, something to keep the TARDIS in aimless flight for a while, to give him time to think about how exactly he was going to keep an eye on the Master. The TARDIS took off, always sounding delighted to slide through time, stroking the fabric of existence as she glided from era to era.

"I'll be wanting my own bowl and kennel, of course," the Master said after a long silence. "It's only fair you afford me the same luxuries I gave you."

The Doctor didn't look up from the monitor, knowing the immediate future held the Master doing everything in his power to get a rise out of his _captor_.

"And take me out for walkies too," he said thoughtfully. "Like a good master should."

The Doctor stilled, but didn't look up, very slowly going back to his observations of the readouts on the monitor. The Master was silent too and the Doctor knew he was being watched very closely, enough that it made his skin itch, made him want to get out of the glare.

"Never more dangerous than when the odds are against him," the Master murmured thoughtfully. The Doctor looked up and saw a strange confusion cross the Master's face before he said, "You don't change much."

The Doctor felt like he should leap on this moment, say something in it while the Master appeared susceptible to being reasoned with, but the Master looked at him with such contempt that the moment was lost.

Instead, the Doctor punched in a command that lowered a scanning wand on the end of a coiled wire. He grabbed it and went to the Master, sweeping the wand over him.

The Master curled his lip, turning his face slightly away when the Doctor neared for a closer scan. "Let me guess," he said. "You're going to neuter the TARDIS. Make her less susceptible to my charms."

The Doctor put on his glasses and went back to the console with, "Something like that."

"I don't think the TARDIS will like that."

The Doctor ignored the remark.

"We did rather enjoy ourselves without you around. Looked as though the old girl needed a good seeing to actually," the Master said and the Doctor just knew there was a satisfied smile on the Master's face.

"Yes. The paradox machine went down a treat," the Doctor said, reading the scans carefully.

"Don't you think?" the Master said, taking great pleasure in this. "You should thank me."

The Doctor gave the Master a look of disbelief. "_Thank_ you?"

"You're welcome," the Master said with a smirk. The Doctor shook his head and turned away.

After a moment, the Master said, "All that power under your feet and you use it to knock around the universe like the TARDIS is some kind of camper van. Behold, the Timelord. Rebel without a clue."

The Doctor punched in the final commands, a little harder than he intended, and spun around to give the Master a steady look. "Right then. I think we're due a spot of lunch. Chips maybe."

The Master gave the Doctor a look, one the Doctor knew mirrored his. Then he smiled his politician's smile and said, "I'd like mine without vinegar, please. Not much for bitter tastes. Though a dollop of sauce will do me nicely."

On it went like that, the Doctor deflecting the Master's infuriatingly well-mannered jibes with stubborn silence or a completely random comments. The Master stayed seated, hands cuffed to a chain after they barely ate, head turning towards the Doctor as he did it, an amused smile on his face. The Doctor kept his mind on Master-proofing the TARDIS under an unwavering gaze.

But it was all bearable. That strange electric undercurrent in his cells that said another piece of Gallifrey existed made it bearable. His mind no longer had the deafening silence of being alone in such a vast universe. There was another presence now. It was prickly, sharp and bright, like having a piece of glass in your eye, the presence of the Master, but it also felt like home. Every jibe and cut-eyed glance melted away in the oceanic relief of not being alone.

"Your conversation skills are riveting," the Master said later, sounding bored.

The Doctor's hand tightened around the sonic screwdriver he was using. He placed it on the console and turned to look at the Master. "You feel like talking?"

The Master was still smiling, but something closed off in his eyes.

"Do you _really_ want to talk?" the Doctor asked, putting his hands in his pockets, showing the Master he was ready to use eternity as an excuse for a long chat if he had to.

The Master's mouth pulled itself into a dismissive smirk, the top lip curling ever so slightly.

The Doctor nodded. "Right then."

He returned to his work and the Master decided he was happy to have a one sided conversation.

"It won't work. You can't keep me here forever. I give it a week. Seven little Earth days," the Master said, his voice like a pleasant hum. "Maybe I'll take the TARDIS too. Or maybe... maybe in seven days you can sit here chained to this seat."

The Doctor clenched his jaw and just about gave into the urge to tell the Master to shut up when the Master asked, "Is it to look smart? The glasses. Is that why you wear them? You don't have to wear them to impress me."

The Doctor snorted. "I suppose you're going to tell me it's because you know I'm stupid."

"Oh no," the Master said thoughtfully. "It's because I know you're a genius."

The Doctor looked away from the console and frowned at the Master whose face showed nothing more than idle thoughts passing through a crowded mind. The Master gave him a smile without its manufactured edges and curls, something that was him, old and familiar. A smile that said, "I know you." That's how the Master planned to escape. By simply knowing the Doctor.

The Doctor took his glasses off and put them on the console before going to the Master and releasing the chain attached to his cuffs. He threw the chain aside and took off the handcuffs too.

"I'll take you to your room. Get some rest."

The Master gave a little laugh and shook his head as the Doctor followed him up into the TARDIS and an empty bedroom. He kept a good distance as the Master walked in and rubbed his wrists.

"No kiss goodnight?" the Master asked with amusement.

"Goodnight," the Doctor said quietly, stepping outside and letting the door shut hard.

Outside of it he felt unable to move, laying a hand on the cool metal, feeling it thrum under his palm. Feeling the Master near the door. The Doctor closed his eyes and felt out the presence, right on the other side of his hand until it abruptly turned from him and moved away.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked away, back downstairs and back to the console, watching it breathe and glow as he worked until there was nothing left to do but sit back, feet propped on the console and eyes fixed on the monitor in the quiet.

Martha's phone rang a while later and he stared at his jacket for a bit before getting the sudden urge to grab it and answer. "Hello."

"Hi. It's me," Martha said quietly.

"Hello me." The Doctor smiled.

"Just thought I'd check up on you, make sure you're not in trouble," Martha said. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know, Timelordy stuff," the Doctor said with a grin.

Martha laughed. "I bet you're watching telly, you big liar."

The Doctor smiled. "It's a part of Timelordy stuff I'll have you know, Martha Jones." Martha laughed some more, the Doctor catching an odd sound of relief in it. "So... you're all right then?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "It's just a bit weird, you know? This big thing happened, this terrible thing and people don't even know about it."

The Doctor nodded. "Probably for the best. Who would want to remember something like that?"

"I know. It's just that... it's just..."

"What?"

"It happened. A whole year." And he did this, the Master. The Doctor could hear her say it no matter how much she held it back. "Look, I better go. You take care of yourself."

"I will. You too... Martha Jones."

Martha was silent, but the Doctor could hear the smile too. "Bye," she said.

"See you," the Doctor promised.

The phone line went dead, leaving behind the sound of the TARDIS and somewhere not too far away, the ticking sound of the Master's mind.

## II.

He had a dream. One that made The Doctor's head ache. He saw himself kneeling on the floor of the Valiant and the Master in his arms, hands still cuffed, his face showing fear, victory, confusion, the unstable flickering emotions of a madman. The Doctor saw himself weep.

The Doctor awoke, sitting up in his bed and scowling at the clocks around the room, happily ticking away, enjoying time as it passed through their little cogs. Usually, the Doctor would be in favour of that enjoyment, but in the next room was the Master. The Master who was already wide awake, something skittering through his mind. The Doctor could feel it, the unrest, the strange alertness and something that made his hands tremble a little. Shaking it from his head, the Doctor got up, not glancing at the wall that separated him from the Master.

Later, he found himself scowling at his own reflection for a rather long time after he'd dressed. He wasn't entirely sure why. He even stepped closer to peer at himself, touching the mirror, as if this were a newly regenerated face that he needed to get used to. He eyed himself, frowning, and then turned away from the mirror and went to the Master's room.

He wasn't surprised that the Master looked as though he hadn't slept at all. The Doctor had felt his wakefulness as he lay in his own bed. The Master was sitting in the chair by the desk, on which many books lay open. He had his feet up on the desk and a book open in his lap, tie slightly askew and jacket lying on the floor, like it had been flung there.

"Sleep well?" the Doctor asked, sticking his hands in his pockets as he went to lean by a bookshelf.

"Like the dead," the Master said before looking up and plastering on his Saxon smile.

"Anything interesting?" The Doctor nodded towards the book.

The Master held it up, showing the Doctor its brightly coloured cover and the picture of a boy wizard. "I thought she said there wasn't going to be a number eight."

"I asked nicely," the Doctor replied.

The Master snorted and let the book drop on the desk. "Nobody gets Voldemort."

The Doctor smiled despite himself and they both stayed silent for a while after that, the Doctor idly poking a book on the desk while the Master openly watched him with amusement. This could be their life in the TARDIS, the Doctor thought. Two silent men, the last of their kind, with nothing to say to each other.

"Hungry?" the Doctor asked, closing a book on the desk and looking at the Master who blinked at the sudden eye contact and then smiled wider.

The Master shook his head slowly, but kept his face open so the Doctor could see the naked hunger for everything else, clear and defiant, sharp and bright. Of course they resurrected him; of course they brought him back. How could they not? It was so easy to look at him and believe that he could master anything, win anything, defeat anything. The comfort it brought the Doctor simultaneously made his hearts beat faster with fear.

"No," the Master said with an all too pleased smile. "You?"

The Doctor gave him a look. "Feel free to wander about. You're not under lock and key."

The Master's lip curled up. "Why? Fitted the TARDIS with a chastity belt?"

"Nope," the Doctor said, turning away to leave. "Let's just say I gave the TARDIS a nice little speech about using protection."

The Master was no doubt reveling in this new situation, quietly deciding what to do, still considering the Doctor as some pet to play with. In a few days he would put whatever he was planning into action, make his bid for escape. The Doctor was more than aware of this as he scrolled through possible destinations for the TARDIS to land.

With the Master around, it had to be somewhere he couldn't utilise technological resources or the susceptibility of anyone even remotely open to suggestion. Not that it mattered if they weren't open. All it took was one look into the Master's eyes, one moment of attention to his voice and you _wanted_ to give in. The Doctor knew there was something in the Master's eyes that promised everything would be okay, that you could just give up and give in.

"Hmm," the Doctor mused as he watched a list of coordinates scroll up the screen. "Planet TARDIS it is then."

No matter how much bigger it was on the inside though, the TARDIS was too small for the Doctor and the Master. The Doctor felt himself walking around as if trying to squeeze past the Master even though the other man hadn't strayed outside his room. The Doctor almost wanted the Master to come downstairs into the console room and rage at him so he could rage back, have a good shout as pointless as it might be – the Master would never let him get away with believing he was on a higher moral ground. Gallifrey would be the first thing he'd throw into the Doctor's face.

Sitting in front of the console and staring off into space, the Doctor saw how this could become a prison. Taking care of the Master meant keeping him away from places where he could make trouble. For the Doctor this meant keeping himself away from trouble – an equally difficult task.

"Not fun running the asylum, is it?"

The Doctor didn't turn from where he sat, his feet propped up on the edge of the console and his arms spread out on the back of his seat.

The Master came closer, shoving the Doctor's feet off the console so he could lean against it instead. He had an extremely dissatisfied look on his face. "So this is it, is it? You're going to bore me into redemption."

The Doctor stared up at the Master. It hit him that he didn't know what to do. Keeping the Master caged in this TARDIS wasn't caring or a cure. Ignoring him was even worse. Letting him out was idiotic. Letting him close was dangerous.

The Doctor frowned at the Master who was glaring at him. Leaning forward he said, "I can't believe you got married."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Well, she insisted I put a ring on her finger before I put my finger on her -"

"This new regeneration," the Doctor cut in.

"Cheeky?"

"Not the word I was going to use," the Doctor said evenly, "A bit mad actually. More than usual."

"You know how it is. You lose your mind a little with every regeneration and I've had my fair share of regenerations," the Master said, adding a sweet smile.

The Doctor thought about it, about waking after every new regeneration, memories suddenly feeling like dreams and nightmares. Things his mind remembered, but his body forgot. Things that seemed out of time now. Echoes that knocked around his head the way he walked around in an empty TARDIS.

"In your case, you come back a little less fashionably offensive," the Master said, now idly poking at the TARDIS controls, unresponsive to his touch. "On occasion."

The Doctor scrunched up his face at the Master. "What?"

"I would have thought that at least one of your little companions might have given you some fashion advice," the Master continued, like this was what they did every day.

"_Married_," the Doctor said. "_You_."

The Master rolled his eyes and turned is back on the Doctor, his lip curling in time for the Doctor to see it as he walked away. He stopped to lean against the opposite side of the console, facing the TARDIS doors.

"Where is she now anyway?" The Master asked absently. "Lovely Lucy."

The Doctor stood up, looked over the controls the Master had been hovering around. "My guess is Torchwood'll be giving her the once over. Maybe UNIT'll keep an eye on her for a while."

"Erase her memory perhaps," the Master said, sounding a little bitter, but turning around with a smile. "So no one but you're little group of sycophants will know that for one year, the Earth stood still under me."

"No," the Doctor said with a shake of his head. "So she can remember who she was before she met you."

The Master angrily slammed his fist on the console, aiming a heated glare at the Doctor, mouth turning down bitterly, but not before it seemed to hint at a childish hurt. He was angry about something else. The Doctor felt the pangs of regret too easily and he hated himself for being so willing to apologize and to forgive. No chains for the Master, no sending him to scream for eternity in a black hole, no locking him in a mirror.

No. The Doctor had chosen to lock himself away instead, to keep the Master safe from himself and the universe safe from the Master. If he thought about it too hard, it made no sense even to him.

The Master had straightened up, composed himself and fixed a sneer on his face. He came up close to the Doctor and said, "She chose to be with me. One of your little humans chose destruction. Smiled and clapped at the Toclafane. I didn't even try. She loved me, you know. She loved the person who destroyed her planet." He laughed at that, shaking his head. "Me. _Loved_ me."

The Doctor wanted to ask why the Master found it so amazing that someone should love him. Instead, he said, "She tried to shoot you if I recall correctly."

The Master smiled, giving a little shrug. "Every marriage has its problems."

The Doctor thought back to Lucy, her eyes always on the Master, her smile turning to disappointment in a year, eyes sad and lonely even when she was on her husband's arm. The stiffness of her body, the marks on her face, the way the Master mocked her faithfulness, his eyes roaming over Tish or various other women.

"You're right," the Doctor said. "Your marriage had a huge problem. You."

The Master turned his nose up at the suggestion, mouth twisting. He gave the Doctor a long assessing look. "Or maybe it was you. The precious Doctor, sniffing around to find a way to save the day. Destroying people with hope. _Infecting_ them." The Master was quiet for a long moment, frowning at the Doctor before murmuring, "It's always you."

The Doctor frowned at the Master, shaking his head, wanting to ask him if destruction was really all he craved, but there was a boy the Master's eyes, a boy he knew a long time ago, before the Master and the Doctor, before the drums and the running away, and he remembered a time when neither of them hated or hurt the other.

Standing so close, the only two of their kind, the Master had to feel what the Doctor was thinking and predictably he stepped back, shuttering his mind to whatever emotions the Doctor felt, looking the way he looked in the Doctor's dream, somewhere between contempt and despair.

"I can help you," the Doctor quietly said.

The Master's face seemed to fold in on itself as he shook his head, lip curling slightly before he turned and smoothed a hand over the back of his head, cranking his neck. Of course he already had cabin fever. The Master was not for taming.

He turned back as suddenly to look the Doctor up and down and ask, "So, what is this? Ninth? Tenth?"

The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets. "Tenth."

The Master frowned. "New York. The ridiculous hair."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "That was my eighth regeneration and the hair was not ridiculous."

The Master smiled, looking intrigued. "You mean I missed a whole regeneration of you? That _is_ disappointing."

_What kind of man am I?_ the Doctor recalled himself thinking, waking anew in borrowed bed clothes.

_No second chances._

But then, the man before him might not even have given the Master a first chance. He was so angry and hurt. So engulfed by his crime and loneliness.

"Do you think I might have liked him?" the Master asked with half a grin.

"And break the habit of every lifetime?" the Doctor asked, imagining meeting the Master two years ago, still itching to strike out and be struck down. Laughing at a caged Dalek, the last of his kind.

_Fantastic. Fantastic._

The Master picked it up, a thread of dark thought that was snaking through the Doctor's mind. He stepped forward, getting far too close, and smiled. "Ooh, maybe I would have."

"Sorry, you're not his type," the Doctor said, the cold and heat of a regeneration ago coming too easily, rebounding off the Master's body in waves, suffocating in the too small space. "What are you do-"

The Doctor had no time to finish because the Master was suddenly against him, his hands under the Doctor's jacket, heated, hard and exploring until he was jumping back and victoriously pointing the sonic screwdriver at the Doctor, twisted smirk back on his face.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. "It's just us two left. The last two survivors of a dead civilization."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Oh, you do go on."

"You can't kill me," the Doctor said quietly. "I know you."

The Master looked annoyed, but his grip tightened on the screwdriver.

The Doctor calmly held out a hand. "You don't want it to end like this."

The Master's finger seem to fidget on the screwdriver, his arm going rigid before it suddenly fell at his side, limp as he stood there giving the Doctor a disdainful look. "It doesn't work. Does it?"

The Doctor looked serious for all of five seconds before breaking out into a big grin. The Master rolled his eyes, pulling a pout of contempt before he threw the screwdriver at the Doctor who caught it mid-air with a pleased smile.

"You see, I learned from the master," the Doctor said as the Master scowled and walked away, leaving the Doctor still smiling. "Oh come on, it's not that bad."

The Master gave no reply, leaving the Doctor alone to turn the screwdriver over and over in his hand. Responsive only to him or not, the Doctor chose to believe the Master wouldn't have fired it. The voice of another regeneration warned him this was a mistake he always made.

## III.

He dreamt of the schism. All night, he dreamt of walking alone and looking into the depth of time and realizing there was no forever or eternity. There was an end to time like there was an end to everything. Time was not for wasting. The Gallifreyans would happily spend their eternity lording over time and space without feeling any of it. Like minor Rassilons, sleeping through eternity. Such waste.

The Doctor heard no drums, no summons to war. He heard nothing. There was silence. The kind that comes at the end of everything and he feared it and he ran and he gathered as much time into his arms as possible and everything that came with it.

Only now there was no one to call him back. No one to chastise, to point out how impotent the word Timelord was when a civilization fell and no twisting of time could bring it back.

The Doctor woke from his dream slow and sluggish, dreaming the last remnants through open eyes as he lay still in his bed. A wet towel landed on his face a moment after he realized the Master was in his room. The Doctor removed it and sat up to see the Master watching him with a rather indifferent look and wearing a bathrobe that he'd never given back to the Tylers.

"That's my bathrobe," the Doctor said with a frown.

The Master gave the Doctor a look before he proceeded to undo the belt of the robe and take it off, dropping it on the ground as he stood there still wet from washing.

The Doctor said, "Okay. You've got my attention."

"Clothes," the Master said. "Unless you like your prisoners walking around naked."

The Doctor ignored the comment and climbed out of bed, picking up the robe and shoving it against the Master's chest. "This way."

He led the Master up a level to where all the clothes he'd acquired through regenerations were hung. The Master seemed amused as he stepped into the midst and said, "A collection of fashion mistakes throughout the ages. How very you."

"You had the TARDIS all that time and you never came up here?" the Doctor asked as he scratched his head, blinking away some of the sleep still clouding his head and then stooped to pick up a pair of red shoes for the day.

"No need," the Master said, fingering a familiar velvet coat. "My attentions were focused elsewhere."

Of course. The Doctor recalled the sickly look of the TARDIS when he, Jack and Martha had found it on the Valiant. The Doctor gave the Master an ignored look and left him to rummage around, no doubt looking for some dashing suit a politician might wear.

The Doctor moved slowly through the TARDIS without real purpose or direction while the Master remained out of sight, still grooming himself perhaps. The Doctor did a sweep for local activity, time anomalies, sparks in space, a storm he might have chased had the Master not been here. The screen in front of him filled with information, pointing out dying suns and stars being born, old worlds, new worlds, bold worlds – the lot. It was all there, beckoning the Doctor to come observe, to become a part of history, to make it even.

He could go, take a look maybe. Some developing world where spears and swords were the most sophisticated weapons. He could take the Master with him. And then what? A leisurely stroll through history with the Master silently observing, ignoring age old urges to leave a trail of destruction in his wake? The Master would find a way to leave scars and bruises wherever they stepped.

"You look exceptionally miserable," the Master said, his footfalls echoing on the metal grate floor.

"Me? Nah, of course not," the Doctor said, putting the console controls into a diagnostic setting, erasing traces of the universe outside as he looked up and stopped dead.

The Master had dressed, but traces of the suit, the crisp white shirt and the tie were all gone. He now wore black trousers, black V-neck top and black leather jacket. The Doctor felt a chill climbing through him. He wanted to tell the Master to take off those clothes and wear something else, anything else. Something other than these mourning clothes, clothes that made him think of waking up new, hard and cold on the ashes of a burnt Gallifrey.

"Well," the Master said slowly, smoothing down the jacket. "What do you think?"

The Doctor stared at the Master and mustered a nod, unable to say more. He wondered if his face had given it away, a look that perhaps said he was seeing a ghost. Many ghosts maybe.

The Master was watching him curiously, picking up on whatever it was the Doctor felt. He didn't know, of course. He didn't know of the Timelord who was regenerated to mourn and to remember with sharp clarity the way Gallifrey burned, throwing fire into the sky. But he knew _something_ was wrong because suddenly his face looked sly and a satisfied smile appeared as he held both his arms out like wings. "It's like I'm a new man."

"'Bit warm for the TARDIS isn't it? The leather jacket," the Doctor said casually, ignoring how he could still feel those same clothes against his own skin.

The Master leveled a long accusing look at the Doctor. "Not really. A bit chilly if you ask me."

The Doctor gave the Master what he hoped was a closed off look. "Well, suit yourself."

"Always do," the Master said, patting both hands on his belly and taking a deep breath before he practically bounded over to the console, placing both hands on it to lean in and then peak his head around the obstruction of the column, so the Doctor could see his face. "So, what's the grand plan? You keep me locked up in here until I go stir crazy enough to believe that I enjoy your company and _want_ to be here?"

The plan, the Doctor thought, was that he would wake up tomorrow and the Master wouldn't be a homicidal maniac because maybe suddenly he just wouldn't want to be one. That seemed rather unlikely.

"Professor Yana," the Doctor said carefully. "He spent all those years building a ship to take those people to Utopia."

The Master snorted and gave a shrug. "Boredom. You did see what he had keeping him company, didn't you?"

The Doctor walked around the console, hands in pockets and eyes trained on the Master. "Thing is, he was willing to stay behind just so someone could send those people to Utopia."

The Master laughed. "Oh please, that ship wasn't going to work until you arrived and stuck your nose in."

The Doctor shook his head, holding up a finger as he thought it through. "No, you see, he said he wanted to give them hope and _then_ he was more than willing to stay behind while they all left for a better place."

The Master's mouth twitched somewhere undecided between a smile and sneer. "But there was no better place. He sent them to hell."

"He didn't know," the Doctor said quietly.

"Maybe he did," the Master whispered. "Maybe, he just didn't care."

The Doctor shook his head. "Tell me. Tell me the truth. Why would you spend a lifetime on something you don't care about?

"I didn't. He did," the Master answered straight away.

"He's a part of you. Whatever Yana was, he came from somewhere inside you. Genius. Tenacious. Listening to the same sound of drums all his life," the Doctor said, watching the Master carefully, seeing the Master's mouth open a fraction, as if catching a breath.

The Master shook his head. "No."

The Doctor slowly took one hand out of its pocket and very slowly reached towards the Master, spreading his hand against the Master's chest, so he could feel both hearts, loud and angry. "He's a part of you. He didn't just come from nowhere and he won't just disappear. The things he felt-"

The Master gave the Doctor a frightful look. Full of contempt and anger. His hand closed around the Doctor's and pushed it away. "Are of no consequence to me. He was a tired old man waiting to die and now he is _thankfully_ gone. I'm sorry if that ruins your hopes of rekindling a romance with the old bore, but you'll just have to find yourself another geriatric sweetheart."

"Are you sure the Toclafane didn't break your hearts first?" the Doctor asked quietly.

The Master closed his eyes for a moment, mouth familiarly set in defense and disgust. He angled his neck for a second, as if it was tense and then gave the Doctor a frown.

"What?" the Doctor asked.

"Give up," the Master said, his gaze sudden and intense, warm and enveloping.

"I can't."

"I won't be a cause," the Master said, moving closer as the Doctor leaned against the console, letting his head drop, eyes closing. "I'm not for saving."

"I won't fight you," the Doctor said.

The Master said nothing. The Doctor waited and waited only to be greeted by silence. If he couldn't feel the Master so close he would have thought he was left alone. He frowned, opening his eyes and looking up to see the Master leaning against the console, right next to him and just watching him with the calmest of expressions. No disdain, anger or malice. Just stillness.

The Doctor couldn't tell how long they stood there, staring at each other, but after a while he had to look away, a little shaken, the Master still unmoving from his watchful gaze.

"I wonder who's Prime Minister," the Master suddenly said. "Oh and America'll be needing someone new too, won't they?" he laughed.

The Doctor shook his head as the Master had a little laugh before turning and landing on the seat in front of the console, arms spread out on the back rest as he looked up and calmly said, "I want to go out. Let's go out and get drunk. Get amusing tattoos perhaps. Like your little humans."

"Not yet," the Doctor said.

The Master looked clearly irritated. "Fine. Let's go somewhere where everyone's already dead so I don't get any ideas. Just... anywhere that's not here."

Only then did the Doctor notice the pinch looked around the Master's eyes, the feeling of something scurrying under his skin. He had to feel caged, his impotent touch unable to command the TARDIS, his hypnotic gaze unable to tame the Doctor and the drums. How did the drums sound all day and night locked up in here? Did their sound bounce off the Gallifreyan metal and reverberate louder? Did they keep him up at night? The Doctor knew the Master hadn't slept since his arrival, his mind hyper aware and always tickling the edge of the Doctor's senses.

"Later," the Doctor said. "Tomorrow."

The Master looked mock excited. "Really? Promise?"

The Doctor ignored the mockery and answered, "Yes," as he pushed away from the console. "I do as a matter of fact."

"Cross your hearts and hope to die?" the Master asked, the sly look back on his face. "Stick a needle in your eye?"

"Tomorrow," the Doctor said, already initializing a search for anything the Master couldn't kill, sway or destroy. "Cross my hearts," he said somewhat wearily.

The Master chuckled and let his head tilt back onto the rest, closing his eyes. The Doctor thought he might have fallen asleep when he stayed like that for a long while. It was only when the Doctor had selected a destination for consideration he heard the very quiet humming and the words came tumbling quick from his memory, a song that had played while the Master danced around the Valiant, drunk on his success.

It all came like a quick flash, the Master triumphant, sometimes confused, sometimes looking as alone as the Doctor had felt. But always so desperate to break him. So desperate to win. Always so desperate.

The Master continued to hum and the Doctor looked for a place they could go without hurting anyone but themselves.

## IV.

He remembered this with painful clarity, the Master resorting to take a human host, so desperate to live on. In his dream, the Doctor once more reached out to the Master, to pull him from death's clutches. The Master's face changed, his clothes melting away into clothes the Doctor would never wear again, his face changing and bringing the Saxon smile. The heart of the TARDIS shimmered and the Doctor reached further, tried harder to save the Master.

The Master laughed. "And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with _you_?"

And suddenly he was letting go, letting himself fall away as the Doctor looked on. Falling away just like Rose had almost fallen into hell, saved at the last second but stolen from him nevertheless. All he could do was reach out and catch a hold of nothing.

The Doctor blinked and realized his hand was still reaching out as he sat in bed, the clocks around the room, happily ticking away. Always ticking away.

When he went down to the main hub of the TARDIS, the Master was already there, standing in front of the console, his hands flat on top. The Doctor could only see his back, rigid and still.

He neared quietly and careful. He walked around the Master, coming to stand by the edge of the console. The Master was staring ahead, eyes locked in place and his fingers were rigid on top of the console, trying to grip at something, but finding no purchase. His face had a sheen of sweat and there were tear tracks on his cheeks.

The Doctor remembered now, what he had thought was the tiredness of an old man. The way Yana had stilled, become lost and looked as though his heart was about to stop. That same look was on the Master's face. Like something was stealing the breath right out of him. The Doctor wanted to hear these drums, see how they could do this, trap the Master the way no one else could.

He reached out and closed his hand around the Master's arm, squeezing it gently. The Master flinched, his head snapping around to look at the Doctor as if he couldn't quite understand what they were both doing here.

"Your face is wet," the Doctor said calmly, letting go of the Master's arm.

The Master frowned, touching his face and grimacing when he felt the wetness, immediately wiping it on the sleeve of his leather jacket, which he then somewhat aggressively took off and threw onto the seat behind the console, something about the way his black shirt fit him giving away that his body was heated and clammy under it, the fabric not moving easily on his skin. The Master sniffed, scrunching up his face as he raked his fingers through damp hair, turning away from the Doctor to show a wet upside down triangle of sweat on the back of his shirt.

"The drums," the Doctor said. The Master said nothing, leaving the Doctor facing his back. "I saw it happen to Professor Yana. When he heard them he-"

"It'll pass," the Master said, his voice low. "Yana was human. He didn't understand. I've lived with this through every life. It's always there. Sometimes it's just... louder."

"Does it happen a lot?" the Doctor asked quietly.

The Master was silent and it looked as though he might not answer. But then he turned around and gave the Doctor an oddly searching look. "Not before him."

The Doctor nodded. "I didn't think so."

The Master's mouth curved in an unhappy smile. "Maybe it takes time remembering how to be a Timelord."

"Or forgetting how to be human," the Doctor said, remembering how John Smith hurt inside him, how he pined and longed to go home to a place where everything had been so clear and simple and within reach. How even now, there was an excruciating sadness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him.

The Master turned his attention to his sleeve cuff and fumbled with it clumsily, buttoning it with shaking fingers. The Doctor pretended not to notice as he turned his attention to the TARDIS controls.

"Well then, feeling up to a jaunt outside the TARDIS? I thought we could venture out after a little breakfast," the Doctor said, putting on his glasses and fiddling with a dial.

The Master, still appearing flushed and a little shaky, looked at the Doctor, suspicion playing across his face. "Let me guess, a nice place where you're going to tuck me away from the universe?"

The Doctor stared. A thousand responses to that assumption flitted through his head, each one more offended than the last. But in the end all he mustered was a slightly stunned, "No. Of course not."

The Master laughed. "Of course not. That's what I might have done. Do away with you, stop you from cluttering up the place."

"You had a year to do that," the Doctor said. "But you didn't."

"No. I humiliated you instead," the Master said slowly.

"Doesn't mean anything," the Doctor said.

"And scattered your little humans," the Master said.

"It never happened. They won't know," the Doctor said evenly.

"What about handsome Jack and your pretty little friend Martha Jones? Her family? They all know, they remember. What do they think of you shacking up with your best enemy?" The Master asked, no humour in the questions, eyes dark and serious. "I've got to give it to her. She saved the world, saved you and then she left. Now that's a woman worth having at your side."

"Don't," the Doctor snapped. "You don't talk about Martha. You don't even _think_ about her."

The Master looked up at the ceiling, blinked and said, "Oops. I think I just did."

The Doctor started to walk off. The Master could stand here in the middle of the TARDIS and learn what it was to be helpless, enjoy the loneliness he so apparently seemed to crave.

"Storming off?" the Master asked as the Doctor walked past him. "You wouldn't be thinking about breaking your promise now, would you? Not very you. Very me, but not very you."

The Doctor glared at the Master. "Mention Martha again and you never step outside the TARDIS. Ever. Got that?"

The Master seemed to pretend to think about it, looking up at the ceiling again. Then he looked at the Doctor, mouth pursed against whatever he really wanted to say. His fingers went to his lips, pretending to zip and lock them and throw away the key. Then he offered a wide clamped shut smile.

"I mean it," the Doctor said quietly. "You don't get to talk about Martha. Her, her family, Jack – any of them. Not after what you did."

The Master blinked, mouth pulling a belligerent pout. The Doctor gave him a final look and left. Maybe it was cruel to leave him there wondering if the Doctor had changed his mind, but the sad fact was that the Master knew the Doctor. Even in the midst of mockery, a promise had been made and the Doctor wouldn't break it. Still, the Master could learn to wait.

Some time later, the Doctor sighed, sagging where he sat hunched over on the foot of his bed. The Master could be given an eternity to think about what he had done wrong, how he had hurt people and it wouldn't matter. Renegade or not, he was as Gallifreyan as they came, more than happy to see himself above everything else in the universe. Of course they resurrected him. They thought he was the only one with enough arrogance to turn the tide of a war. They never stopped to think he could feel fear.

"Oh, that's right, feel sorry for him why don't you?" the Doctor could hear himself, standing there unsympathetic and rolling his eyes, dressed in the clothes the Master had taken for himself. "I know, let's just give him the TARDIS and a box of Roses."

"We both ran," the Doctor said quietly. "It wasn't just him."

The Doctor saw himself, a look of pure anger on his face, eyes filled with ice. "No. But I came back and I had to destroy it all. He could have stayed. We could have fought together, but he was too busy hiding at the end of the bloody universe. And now he's here. When it doesn't even matter. It's all gone and he didn't do anything. It all came down to me."

The Doctor stood up, thought hard about the man he was before he took in all the energy of the TARDIS to be born new, some of his anger leeching away, uncovering the pain and loss he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time. All that time, he had spent pretending there was no hurt and embracing anything that could warm him even for the smallest of moments.

"He's all that's left of Gallifrey," the Doctor said. "The only proof it even existed."

His ghost laughed. "What? And that we didn't destroy it?"

The Doctor stared and between one blink and the next he was back in bed, sitting up with a start, looking around for versions of himself haunting the TARDIS. There was just the Master, currently projecting silent fury all over the TARDIS. The Doctor got up with an annoyed scowl on his face and a hand raking through his hair. When he reached the main level, the Master was nowhere to be seen until the Doctor reached the console and saw the Master sitting on the floor by a wall, resentfully watching the console as if it had betrayed him. He was sitting there ticking away like a stopwatch with a terrible secret, threatening to flip open any second.

The Doctor gave him a look, while slowly scratching the side of his neck, wondering what came next. Finally, he looked away and said, "Picked up a beacon last night. Looks like the people that sent it might be long gone, but the energy readings are a little funny, so for all we know we might find two headed wolves or something equally terrifying. I thought we'd take a look."

The Master smiled, slow and amused, something remaining hard and dark in his eyes. The Doctor took that as agreement, too tired and prickly to start another conversation that ended in glaring and silent threats.

Seconds later, the Doctor grabbed his coat and put it on, heading to the doors with, "Right then." He turned to see the Master still sitting by the wall and asked him quietly, "Shall we?"

The Master looked up at the ceiling, perhaps genuinely deciding or perhaps pretending he didn't care about being cooped up in the TARDIS. Then he gave a slow blink before getting up, picking up the leather jacket from the spot next to where he had been sitting. The Doctor felt his mouth go dry as the Master put it on, making the Doctor's mind flit through a million moments of staring in the mirror at the face of a reaper in his shroud.

He turned his back on the Master and opened the doors.

Sunlight flooded into the TARDIS, fresh and bright accompanied by a warm breeze. The Doctor closed his eyes and smiled as he stepped outside and turned his face towards the sun. "Ah yes." He hadn't even realized he'd been yearning for this until now.

The Master stepped out and stood next to him, arms by his side as he slowly looked around. He curled his lip in disappointment. The Doctor almost suggested they could go back inside and then thought better of it, turning to lock the door. When he turned back, the Master was frowning at the nearest wall of leaves, running a finger down it. All the way ahead of them was a wide gravelly path with tall walls made of hedges, bright green and leafy, the sky blue and bright above them. The Doctor felt it warm his insides.

The Master walked ahead of him, slow and careful, his head turning to take long looks at everything.

"Nothing like a bit of sunshine," the Doctor said with a smile.

The Master turned slowly to frown at the Doctor, a questioning look on his face. Then he arched an eyebrow and turned around again with, "It's a maze."

The Doctor caught up with the Master and they walked side by side down the path, seeing a wall of green in front and two paths leading in separate directions.

"So it is," the Doctor said. "Question is... what's the beacon about?"

The Master was poking at a hedge again, looking very closely as the Doctor soaked in the warmth and the breeze and everything he could have wanted right now. Leaves rustled loudly, breaking him from his reverie and gaining the Master's attention. Both men turned around at the same time and both their mouths fell open when they found a leafy hedge in place of the TARDIS. The Doctor turned and looked at the Master.

The Master held up his hands and smiled. "That wasn't me."

The Doctor ignored the Master and put his hands against the hedge, feeling across it. Nothing. He took his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the wall of leaves, which remained in place.

"Maybe a pair of hedge trimmers might be better suited," the Master offered from somewhere behind the Doctor.

"I'm thinking this is not your normal garden hedge. If there's something technological at root, maybe we can..." Nothing. "Maybe not."

The Master was silent.

The Doctor gritted his teeth as he looked at the hedge, scratching his cheek as he turned over the options in his head. "Well, I suppose we do this the way the makers of the maze intended. We find our way around and find the TARDIS."

The Master was still quiet. The Doctor felt a sudden feeling of heavy dread and turned around. The path had changed, two paths intersecting where they hadn't before and the Master was nowhere to be seen.

"Well that's not good," the Doctor murmured. "That's not good at all."

The Doctor ran down the path, stopping in the center of the intersection turning around and around, though he saw nothing new in any direction. "It's all the same," he said, scowling at his surroundings.

The Doctor picked a direction and walked. He thought about calling for the Master, but he and the TARDIS had vanished so quickly and soundlessly it seemed pointless to do so. All he had was a faint sound in the distance. He had to strain to hear it, but it was there and it was all he had to follow right now. The Doctor stopped when he came to another intersection where he turned to look at his surroundings and saw the same thing again. He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to think of where the hidden kink in the armour of this place might be.

"Oh my god. Doctor?"

The Doctor heard the voice but didn't dare turn around, a strange light and fluttery feeling in his chest making him feel off balance. He shook his head.

"It is you, isn't it?" came a second question, her voice like water.

The Doctor turned and time seemed to slow down, the breeze stopping and the leaves forgetting to rustle. The gravel under his feet made no noise and even the way the sun shone seemed more silent.

"Rose," he said.

Rose looked breathless, shocked, staring at him with wet eyes. She shook her head and said, "No, see, this can't be right. You said... you said-"

"I know what I said," the Doctor said, cutting her off abruptly. "You shouldn't be here. It's not.. it's impossible."

Rose shook her head. "One minute I was at Torchwood and the next minute I was in this maze and then I saw you and I... I couldn't believe it." Rose clamped her mouth shut, looking away from him for a moment before asking. "Is that really you?"

He gave her a small smile that felt sad behind his face. "Yes. That you?"

She laughed and nodded, her smile so bright and large that the Doctor found himself grinning as she said, "Yeah, it's me."

The Doctor smiled. "Rose Tyler." He shook his head, growling at the hot cotton-headed feeling behind his eyes and said. "Come here you."

Rose seemed to choke and laugh at the same time as she ran to him, arms going around him as he held her tight in his embrace and lifted her off the ground.

"Oh, Rose Tyler," he said, voice gravelly and rough. "I have missed you."

Rose was laughing into his neck, holding on tight as if she might somehow be pulled away from him again. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. Time seemed to slow down, letting him take this all in, imprint it into his body, his hands fisted in Rose's jacket. But letting go was an inevitability. He did so slowly, the space between their bodies taking forever to widen until they were no longer touching.

Rose was smiling, eyes a little sad. "It's been forever."

The Doctor nodded, mouth turning down against his will. "Nah. Just feels that way."

Rose wiped her face and shook her head, as if she could shake off everything they were feeling. "So, Doctor. You going to tell me what's going on?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

She raised her brows. "You have no idea."

"Yep," he said.

"You don't sound too cut up about it," she said.

He grinned at her. "Nope."

She grinned back. "Well. You want to find out or what?"

The Doctor nodded. "I think..." he said, turning to look at the path Rose had come from, where the almost imperceptible sound seemed louder. He walked past her, staring at the gravel ground and green hedges. "That's a fantastic idea." He turned slightly and held out his hand, a happy blissful calm enveloping him when she placed hers in it.

She wrapped herself around his arm the way only Rose could, staking a claim for a place in his life just by holding tight, by not being too afraid to get close to the man many called murderer. They walked down the path like they were out on a leisurely walk by some charming river.

"So, here we are and the universe didn't collapse," Rose said.

The Doctor nodded. "No, it didn't. Should have though. But not even a burp."

Rose laughed and then asked. "You think someone brought us here?"

"Well, it's not a coincidence," the Doctor said. "Which is good because I don't like coincidences. They don't make sense. A bit like when you buy things that only come in packs of twelve. That makes no sense at all."

Rose stopped walking and pulled on his arm. "What happens when you do find out?"

The Doctor gave her a long look. "Well, I see three possible outcomes. One, you're able to go back the way you came. Two, you get automatically pulled back. Or three, you're stuck here, in this universe."

Rose looked serious for a moment and then she smiled. "I can live with that."

"What if you get the choice to go back?" the Doctor asked. "Your family is all-"

"I chose you," Rose interrupted, "Remember? I chose to stay with you."

The Doctor was smiling as he nodded. "You did, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," she said with a grin.

"Then you should stay," he said, squeezing her hand. "You should definitely stay. Of course, that's if we find the TARDIS."

Rose stared. "You've lost the TARDIS?."

"Not just the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "I also seem to have lost a... well, Timelord."

"Excuse me?"

"Uhh, might take too long to explain actually," the Doctor said, running a hand through the leaves of the hedge wall as he walked past, pulling back when he felt the sharp snap of an electronic current whipping out on his fingers in a crackle of blue light.

"Okay," Rose said pointing at the leafy wall. "I don't think hedges are supposed to do that."

"No, not the usual behavior for foliage," the Doctor said. "Well, most foliage. Even so, compared to your occasionally angry hedge, that was just rude."

Rose gave him one of her 'you're an alien and a funny one at that' look as he took out his sonic screwdriver, hoping this was the kink in the armour he was looking for. Just a single blast made the hedge start to flicker and jitter before it completely disappeared, like someone had turned off a projection.

The Doctor nodded and looked at Rose. "Had a feeling it would do that."

Rose nodded back. "Now what? That path looks just the same as the rest."

The Doctor nodded and pointed ahead. "Yes, but that's where the sound is coming from."

"What sound?"

The Doctor gave her a thoughtful look. "I didn't think you'd be able to hear it. There's a sound, over there. Could be the Master's way of trying to tell me where he is."

"The Master?" Rose laughed. "You're kidding me."

The Doctor smiled and pulled Rose along, following the bread crumb trail of ticking. Only, after a moment, Rose pulled him off the path to point in another direction. He turned and found the TARDIS sitting quiet in the distance. Leaning against it stood the Master. The Doctor frowned.

Rose was grinning happily. "Bit of a rubbish maze, isn't it?"

The Doctor frowned at her. "Actually, yes."

"Who's he then?" Rose asked, nodding towards the Master who looked positively bored. "And why is he wearing your clothes?" The Doctor sighed and opened his mouth to explain reluctantly, but Rose interrupted and said, "Let me guess, long story."

The Doctor replied with a nod and smile, before starting for the TARDIS, Rose's hand in his and under the Master's curious gaze.

"You just make friends everywhere you go, don't you?" the Master said with a smirk when they reached the TARDIS.

"Hi, I'm Rose," Rose greeted the Master with a smile and small wave.

"Rose," the Master said, unimpressed. Then he nodded to the TARDIS. "I think I've had enough of this little excursion."

The Doctor was nodding, looking from the Master to Rose and the TARDIS which seemed oddly lifeless to him. The ticking in his head was still there too, only it had gotten louder. Loud enough to become distracting. He ignored the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against the noise and pushed the doors to the TARDIS open, his companions following him.

Rose ran ahead to the console, placing both hands on it. "I thought I'd never see this place again."

"You're not missing much," the Master said, walking past her and sitting down in the seat in front of the console, while the Doctor remained by the doors, massaging the back of his neck as the ticking grew louder and louder.

"You always this grumpy?" Rose asked the Master, her hands traveling over buttons and levers. Before long, the TARDIS was filled with music, a thumping beat of an Earth song she had liked. She turned back to him and grinned. "You dancin'?"

The Doctor felt as if both his hearts were somehow lighter, floating inside his chest. He watched Rose hold a hand out to him, only the Master smoothly slid out from behind the console and took her hand, pulling her close and effortlessly leading her into a dance. Rose looked surprised and then started laughing, the Master smiling along with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

The Doctor felt sweat break out across his body as the ticking became a knocking and the knocking very quickly became a loud thumping, beating steadily to the music in the TARDIS. If his pocket hadn't suddenly started to vibrate he might have just run to the console and taken off from this awful place they had landed on. If it wasn't for the fact that every time the phone in his pocket rang, the Master, the TARDIS and Rose flickered, he might have just happily gone along with this all.

The Doctor's hand trembled as he flipped open the phone and answered with a shaky, "Martha."

He could sense Martha's immediate concern at the sound of his voice. "Doctor. You all right?"

The Doctor nodded, turning his back on the dancing pair. "I'm fine."

"You sound terrible. Tell me what's going on," she insisted.

The Doctor shook his head. "I can't. Not right now."

"Look, if you're in trouble," she said. "Doctor, I want to help."

The Doctor stilled, leaning against the door of the TARDIS. "I know you do. You can't. I'll call you back."

He flipped the phone shut and the flickering around him stopped. The Master and Rose were watching him suspiciously. The Master said, "It's this place. We should leave."

"The Master's right," Rose said. "We should get out of here."

The Doctor pushed through the doors of the TARDIS and went back out into the maze, hearing shouts of 'Doctor!' behind him. The noise in his head was unbearable. He would have torn down everything to find its root and stop it if he could. So he fumbled along the walls of the maze, trying to move towards where the sound was loudest, trying to find where it came from.

Then he dropped to the ground, out of breath. His hand tightened around the phone in his hand and when he looked up next, he found Martha looking down at him with concern. She gave him a gentle smile and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. She said, "It's okay, Doctor. I've got you."

He swallowed and nodded before pushing himself back to his feet. The maze was suddenly flickering madly around him and he could see behind the green hedges, iron grids covered in cables and wires and small blinking lights. He could see the maze was being projected into a vast black room, every inch of it covered in circuitry that was capable of creating solid unreality. He also saw the huge tower at the center of it all, large rods coming out of it like the arms of Kali, connecting to the iron columns around it that threw out the illusions.

The Doctor stumbled all the way to the tower, the noise in his head somewhere between bad and bearable, increasing when the maze solidified into greenery and sunlight and fading when he could see the reality of it.

Then he saw the Master.

He lay on the ground, curled in on himself with his arms folded over his head tight, fingers rigid in his hair. He lay in front of the huge tower, the heart of the maze. The Doctor saw the reason for the sudden instability of the maze. A large metal rode was protruding from the controls of the tower, torn away from the tower itself. There were sparks flying around it, lights fighting furiously to stay on. The Doctor went to the tower and pulled a similar rod from its armour, coming away with wiry cables still attached. He took it and smashed it across the terminals as they emitted electronic screams of protest. He smashed until half the lights stopped working and the maze was fighting to project its false images.

When the pain in his head subsided to minimal, the Doctor stopped, rod held mid-air, still aimed at the tower. Machine or not, the tower looked so pathetic and alone in the vast black cavern that the Doctor had to step back, the rod falling from his hand. He twisted around until he spotted the TARDIS, probably right where they had left it. He turned towards the fallen man, crouching by his side. The Master was still lying there, taut and rigid with pain.

The Doctor managed to get an arm under the Master's shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position and then pulling one of the Master's arms around his own shoulder so they could both stand. Once upright, he dragged the Master to the TARDIS, just about managing to keep upright as he took out his key and unlocked the door. Once inside, he let the Master down by the console and immediately went to the controls, laying in a new destination and staring in shock when he saw they'd been trapped on that maze for a whole day, the passage of time having frighteningly eluded him.

The TARDIS seemed glad to leave the maze behind as the Doctor tiredly stepped away from the console, the pain his head ebbing away. The Master didn't seem any better, still curled up in a ball of misery. The Doctor went to him, placing a hand on the Master's arm. The Master's fingers closed into fists against his head.

_Can't you hear it?_

_The drums._

_They're coming._

_Can't you hear it?_

_No, it's just you._

The Doctor had heard the sound of madness and he couldn't help but wonder how loudly it sounded inside the Master's mind, never ending.

The Doctor pulled the Master up, holding on tight. "Come on. It's okay. We got out."

The Master's hands were falling away as he sat up, dazedly looking around, lilting to the side. He shook his head, face wet and flushed. "No."

"What?" the Doctor asked.

The Master turned towards him, grabbing a handful of his coat and peering closely into the Doctor's eyes, the heat radiating off his face. "The drums, make them stop."

The Doctor stared at the Master, lost in desperation, lost enough to forget who he was and whom he was talking to. The Doctor nodded, moved forward to embrace the Master, holding him firmly until his mouth was pressed against the Master's hair.

He pulled the Master to his feet, the man almost a dead weight as he was dragged up to his bedroom. The Doctor almost tripped when trying to maneuver the Master, falling on top when they both landed on the bed. With a sigh, he rolled off and landed on his back, lying next to the Master as he welcomed the familiar hum of the TARDIS into his head.

The Master whispered something incoherent, tensed up and still wearing that leather jacket that the Doctor was beginning to loathe. The Doctor turned his head to stare at the back of the Master's head, hair damp with sweat, neck flushed pink.

The Master said nothing else, turning further in on himself, head buried in his arms and the pillow he was resting on. The Doctor thought of the unbearable angry noise in his own head while they were trapped in the maze, thought of how he would have done anything to be rid of it. He sighed and looked at the Master, reaching out to lay a hand on his back, the only comfort he could offer until the Master finally seemed to succumb to sleep.

The Doctor pulled out the phone from his pocket and dialed. Martha answered immediately. "Doctor."

The Doctor smiled. "I'm fine."

"What did he do?" Martha asked, sounding angry. "It was him, wasn't it?"

The Doctor stared up at ceiling, opening his mouth to say something flippant and then answering, "No. No it wasn't him. But we're okay."

Martha was silent for a moment, her worry loud and clear without her saying a word.

The Doctor said. "Why don't you tell me what you're up to?"

A short silence followed during which Martha completely figured out that he just needed her voice. She said, "Okay."

He closed his eyes and listened.

## VI.

He dreamt of stumbling into the TARDIS, falling to his knees. All he'd ever wanted to do was explore space and time, see everything that had bloomed throughout the universe and here he had mastered destruction in mere seconds. He had ended the time war. He had taken the Gallifreyans and their enemies out of the universe in one swoop and the silence in his head was deafening.

He blinked furiously against the tears in his eyes, hoping and wishing that he could feel maybe even one person out there, anyone. But there was nothing. Even the TARDIS was weak and shattered around him, glowing dimly as he sat with his palms flat against the floor, head hanging down as he lost control and choked on his grief.

No more Gallifrey. No more Timelords. He alone was left to watch the turn of the universe.

"Not strictly true."

The Doctor looked up to see the Master, his face the same, his hair a little darker, his eyes bright blue from an era ago and the stubble of a goatee growing in; like all the faces the Master ever had, layered on top of each other and wearing the Doctor's clothes.

He pointed the laser screwdriver at the Doctor and said, "Gallifrey is right here."

He pointed the screwdriver away and fired at the wall, which shimmered and disappeared to reveal the burnt orange skies of their world, glorious and rich in colour, the citadel standing tall and proud, as if eternally immovable.

The Doctor's eyes snapped open and he stilled for a moment, widening his tired eyes before blinking and taking a deep breath and letting it go.

"You snore," was the Master's first greeting of the day, his voice smooth as usual.

The Doctor frowned up at the ceiling when he heard the accusation from his side. "I do no such thing."

"You'd wake Rassilon with the noise you were making," the Master replied quietly.

The Doctor sighed, feeling oddly resigned, the last remnants of the dream still floating through his mind. "How did you find that control tower?" he asked after a while.

"The walls flickered," the Master said. "Something interfered with the tower's broadcast signal."

The Doctor smiled. "Ah. Mobile phones. Good for something after all. Why didn't you come to find me?"

"Because I'm not one of your doe-eyed companions," was the reply and then a more grave, "I... am the Master."

The Doctor turned his head slowly to look at the Master and found him grinning up at the ceiling, immensely amused as he started to laugh.

The Doctor laughed, going back to looking at the ceiling. Then he thought back to Rose and the Master dancing in the TARDIS and his smile faded a little. "What did you see out there, in the maze?"

The Master was quiet. Then he said, "I saw... an ice cream van." The Doctor rolled his eyes when the Master started to laugh. Then he asked the Doctor, "What about you? See anything interesting?"

Anyone else and the Doctor might have said no or given an answer as inane as the Master's. He would have hidden away because anyone else wouldn't understand and even if the Master didn't care, still...

"People came back," the Doctor said. "People I lost." He turned his head to look at the Master again. Quietly, he said, "I heard the drums. I heard what you hear. I remember the sound."

The Master's jaw clenched and he swallowed down whatever he was feeling, still staring at the space above him. "Then I suppose that blonde girl running around had something to do with you."

The Doctor felt the sting of an old wound. "Someone I knew."

"Someone you _lost_," the Master said with a smirk. He sighed and closed his eyes, smiling. "So, I saw your mind and you heard mine. How lovely. Maybe we ought to exchange vows now."

"You're already married," the Doctor pointed out.

"And you're rather fixated on that. Not jealous are you?" the Master said, opening his eyes and turning to face the Doctor. "You look the type."

The Doctor gave the Master a serious and stern look. "You asked me to help you."

The Master was looking over the Doctor's face, his eyes roaming all over it. "Yes. I did, didn't I? What does that entail exactly? A full frontal lobotomy?"

"It means finding a way to fix what's wrong, whatever it takes," the Doctor promised.

"You can't fix everything," the Master said. "What makes you think I'm broken? What makes you think this isn't right?" he asked, tapping his own temple.

"When something's right, it doesn't hurt," the Doctor said quietly. "Not the way I saw it hurting you."

The Master's lip curled up. "Spare me the pity," he said, rolling off the bed and landing on his feet. He took off the jacket he'd been sleeping in, throwing it on the bed and moving towards the door.

"You want it to stop," the Doctor said, getting up and following him out. "I know you do."

"You _wish_," the Master said, turning to the Doctor and holding up a finger. "You're hoping there's something in here that you can tolerate. Something that will make it okay for you to be like me because that's what really hurts, isn't it? You know how it would only take a nudge for you to become like me and you can't stand the thought."

"And you think that standing in the way of everything that matters to me will somehow make me see sense in your order of the universe," the Doctor snapped. "Everything that's angry, vicious and destructive."

"And you just know how much you'd love it," the Master said, his voice a whisper filled with promise. "If two should have survived Gallifrey then we are those two. Truly, we could have everything."

The Doctor shook his head.

"Then we fight," the Master said,

"We're the only ones left," the Doctor said, voice hushed. "I can't... I won't fight you."

The Master smiled. "And I'll fight you all the way. This Timelord is not for turning."

The Doctor stepped back, running a hand through his hair under the Master's gaze. A million things ran through his mind. A way to work on a 'cure' without telling the Master. Imprisoning him somewhere he could cause no harm. Making him human while he looked for a cure. Something to save him from himself.

The Master frowned at him, sensing the minor betrayals. "Judas," he said with a smile. He stepped forward and took the Doctor's face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and whispering. "Go ahead. Betray me with a kiss."

The Doctor held onto the Master's hands and closed his eyes. "There's no one. Everything... it's all gone."

The Master shook the Doctor lightly, but enough to make him open his eyes. "Let's bring it back. All of it. We're the only ones who could do it."

"There's no bringing it back," the Doctor said, a heavy weight in his chest.

The Master just smiled, eyes locked on the Doctor, welcoming him in, asking to be let in. He smiled serenely, pressing his forehead to the Doctor's, closing his eyes and pressing his smiling lips to the Doctor's miserably clamped shut mouth. "Maybe. Maybe not," he murmured.

_Show me._

_No._

_Show me Gallifrey._

_No._

_Show me how she looked the last you saw her._

_Don't._

_Was it good?_

_Stop it._

_Was it?_

_No!_

_Liar._

The Doctor shoved aside the Master's hands, pushing him and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall with, "Yes! Yes it was good! It was good to know that our world wasn't the only one dying! Good to see the Daleks destroyed! And I wish..."

The Master waited, breathlessly looking at the Doctor from where he was pinned against the wall. "What? What do you wish?"

The Doctor choked and looked away at the floor, hiding his contorted face and the tears, fingers clinging to the Master's shirt as he let out a growl of frustration that shook the Master. He took a deep breath, controlling himself even as his mouth seemed to tremble. Letting go of the Master, he shoved past him and got away as fast he could, ignoring the strange tendrils of questioning that reached out to the back of his mind.

In the reading room, he didn't do anything as cliched as throwing the books off shelves or tearing apart the furniture. He stood by the stained glass window that filtered in the kind of light that came from a moonlit night and he stared into his memories, remembering how he had been glad that if Gallifrey had to die, it was only fitting that everything around it perish too.

He had wanted revenge, a dark malicious part of him opening its ashen petals to the light of a burning Gallifrey. He had wanted to breathe in everything from the heart of the TARDIS and discard the Timelord to become the destructor. Re-write the universe. Make it good. Make it better. Make it everything it wasn't. Instead he sat in the dark for days, staring ahead of him as the TARDIS recovered around him, waiting for him to make her work again.

"The perils of a long life, my dear boy," he heard his own aged voice.

He turned to see a ghost of himself sitting in the chair by the fireplace, both his hands on his cane white-haired and distinguished. It seemed an eternity ago that the Doctor was this man.

"We live long only so we may observe the loss of the things we love," he said, voice scratchy and tired like it had been before the first time he'd ever regenerated. "On the bright side, you do seem more reckless with each regeneration. Dying younger and younger, my lad," he said with a bit of a mad laugh.

The Doctor turned back to the window, hearing laughter echo in his mind.

He left the room after aimlessly flicking through some of the books in his shelves, books the Gallifreyans would certainly not have authorised for borrowing, even if the Doctor had always intended to take them back. He changed out of his rumpled clothes from the day before and headed down to the main hub, hands in pockets and nerves a little less frayed.

The Master was sitting on the seat in front of the main monitor on the console, an open book on his lap and feet on the edge of the console. He had dressed in fresh black trousers and dark shirt, still wearing that same jacket that screamed _we're the same, we've always been the same_.

When he saw the Doctor, he brought out little paper bag from nowhere and held it up. "Jelly baby?"

The Doctor looked into the bag, picked a green one and popped into his mouth before moving to the console and checking the readings. "Still trying to make it work?"

The Master gave the Doctor a wide-eyed smile. "Constantly."

"Thought as much," the Doctor said, running the usual checks across the console under the Master's constant gaze.

After a while, the Master moved, letting his feet drop to the floor, throwing the bag of jelly babies on the console and leaning forward in the Doctor's direction. He tilted his head a little and the green glow at the center of the console shone in his eyes.

"I have a proposition," he said calmly.

"Oh?" the Doctor asked, not particularly interested.

The Master reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. "Heads, you win. Tails, you lose."

The Doctor stared at the coin. "What's the prize?"

"Me," the Master said with an amused smile. "Heads and I'll let you work your magic. Tails... you let me work mine."

"And what does that mean exactly?" the Doctor asked.

"It means... the Master... and the Doctor," the Master said carefully. "Only... my way."

The Doctor gave a little laugh and shook his head. "You're saying if the coin lands heads, you quietly go along with everything. I find it hard to believe."

"Ye of little faith," the Master said. His lip curled slightly. "Go ahead. Test me. I dare you."

The Doctor gave the Master a long look and then nodded. "Fine. Throw it."

The Master smiled victoriously and flipped the coin. It spun through the air like it was part of a speeding watch. Then it started its descent and as quick as it was, it seemed to take forever. Before it reached the Master's outstretched hand, the Doctor reached out and caught the coin, wrapping his hand around it, keeping his hand fisted shut.

The Doctor said nothing, but his look must have said it all. The fate of a universe couldn't rest on a coin toss.

"Go on then," the Master said quietly. "Fix it anyway. Fix my poor little broken brain. Go ahead, have a little wander around."

The Doctor turned his head and looked down at the Master who was peering up at him in the oddest fashion.

The Master let out a breath and closed his eyes with a whispered, "Doctor... please."

The Doctor reached out tentatively, his fingers touching the warm skin at the Master's temple, his hand cupping the side of the Master's face. He closed his eyes and he saw...

_the untempered schism making his hearts beat so fast the breath in his lungs isn't enough, making his legs weak. He has to walk alone, to approach it and look into it with no one by his side._

_When he's close and looking into it, he sees power and fury, the essence of creation thrumming through the veins of the cosmos, loud and powerful and painful. His body freezes as he stares and hears the beginnings of a rhythm and his twin hearts cry out, "Run, you fool, run."_

_He decides to step back, decides he will run as far from this thing as he can and he'll keep running and never look into this circle of horrific truth again. _

_"No," a voice whispers. "Closer. Listen."_

_Though he feels fear, his feet move forward and he looks deeper and he hears it, that sound, the drums, the drums, beating with every turn of the universe, the very heartbeat of time, bringing death and an end to everything before it can crumble and fold and bloom again. Time says, there's no time, it's all running out, running away and the drums say bloom and blaze, create before it's all destroyed. Fight and make your mark for when the drums end, so does everything. They are coming. The drums. They're coming. _

_He breathes out long and hard and whispers. "Can you hear it?"_

_But they can't. It's just him, being pulled away from the schism, his eyes wide in shock, mouth twisted in grief and the sound of drums growing like a vine, wrapping around his mind. They make the universe seem a dark place, one where so much is wrong, so much could be better and there's no time, no time at all. _

_Never any time. All must be done quick. All things must be mastered. All obstacles overcome. He'll run from Gallifrey, if that's what has to be done, he'll run. _

_And he runs and runs, tearing down what seems wrong, what seems a waste of time. He calls it healing, for he is the Doctor. He is doing nothing wrong. He's just fixing things, making them better before the big bang goodbye, the last strike of the drum. _

_"This will be a new dawn for our country," he says. "It's time to heal."_

_He walks away from the podium and through a door into a side room where Martha is smiling and waiting for him, hand outstretched. _

_"Darling," he says, going to her and embracing her. Martha looks up at him with pride and then kisses him. A part of him says there is no time for kisses, no heartbeats to be wasted on human pursuits, but another part of him says to take it, take it all. Time is running out. _

_"Prime Minister John Smith," Martha says. "Who would have thought it."_

_The Doctor smiles. "Oh, I dunno, not that surprising when you think about it. The opposition was _appalling_."_

_Martha grins. "Or maybe you're just too charming for your own good."_

_The Doctor arches a brow. "You're not trying to sweet talk the Prime Minister are you, Dr. Jones?"_

_Martha winks. "I wouldn't dream of it. Come on, your public awaits."_

_The Doctor goes with her, arm in arm, but his eyes search for one person. The man he knows will eventually track him down. The man who knows time like the Doctor does, knows her ebbs and flows, where she comes and where she goes. They could both be one and the same. _

_The reporters ask him what his plans are and he says he's going to make it better, for everyone, and he means it, he means that not a precious drop of time will be wasted, not even the smallest second. _

_When they stand on the ruins of London, he knows it's because something better is meant for here, something bigger, and he will be the architect of it. _

_"It's not up to you," the Master says as they stand in the middle of a deserted London Bridge, the world around them eerie and silent and the Master dressed in familiar clothes, all in black as if it's someone's funeral._

_The Doctor smiles at the Master. The only madness apparent on his face is the one the Timelord inherits from weariness and grief. He has his hand held out, a sympathetic and sad look on his face as he shakes his head. "Doctor."_

_"The drums," the Doctor says, swallowing to relieve the tightness in his throat. "Can't you hear it?"_

_The Master shakes his head. "Let me help you."_

_The Doctor frowns. "No," he says. "You can't fix this."_

_"I can try," the Master says, looking desperate. "Please."_

_The Doctor considers it for a wasted second, him and the Master together, last of the Timelords, no more running. Let the drums come. Let them end everything. Just... stop._

_He doesn't even see where the bullet comes from, though he expects it. It will always end like this. Somebody will always fall. Somebody will weep._

_The Master catches him and lowers him to the ground, looking down on him with a pained expression. The Doctor smiles and the Master knows why. This will stop the drums. _

_"No," the Master whispers. "There has to be another way. Regenerate."_

_The Doctor just smiles. There are worst ways to die than in the Master's arms, watching this grief and having tears rain over his face. _

_The world swims around him and he feels his body become heavy, as if it's sinking. He blinks hard to see the face above him and sees the sky turn into_ metal, green and gold, _the sound of the breeze turning into_ the breath of the TARDIS.

When he looked up at the Master's face, he was smiling down at the Doctor. He said, "You can't fix everything."

The Doctor grimaced against the hot crippling pain in his skull, unable to answer as he arched up with a gasp. The Master pulled him close and held him in a tight embrace, rocking him until the pain turned to black.

## VII.

In his dream, the Doctor wept, holding his enemy to his broken hearts. Willing him to live. But the Master chose victory over companionship. He always chose victory.

The Doctor sat up slowly, grim and shaky, aching from lying on the metal grate floor, his hand still fisted around a coin that had been tossed hours ago. Slowly, he stood up and looked around the TARDIS, knowing the Master was gone, his presence in the Doctor's mind nothing more than a dim candle in the dark. He went to the TARDIS doors and opened them, finding the TARDIS in a dark alley that opened into a bustling street with bright neon signs. Above him, the air was filled with the sound of small ships, landing, taking off and passing through.

The Doctor closed the doors and went to the console, finding a slow drying blue sticky mess. Something had overloaded the circuits and burnt out the Master's contraption. Amidst the blue jelly goo were familiar pieces of circuitry. It looked as though the Master had brought back a bit of the maze with him. Maybe this was a reason why the maze hadn't liked him very much.

The Doctor pulled away the debris from the console controls, grimacing when the sticky jelly covered his fingers. Then he noticed one last component that was still attached to a Master-made interface jacked into the console. The Doctor reached for it and pulled away the Master's green ring.

"Good morning," came the Master's voice from behind him as soon as he removed the ring.

The Doctor spun around and stared at the Master who was smiling back at him. "The TARDIS," the Master said, "Is much easier to persuade while you're... not quite there."

He tapped his finger, now devoid of the ring. "Piece of me," he said and then he tapped his temple. "Piece of you. It alls adds up to a slightly confused TARDIS. Unfortunately, my little homemade skeleton key only had power for two trips before your shiny little protocols kicked in."

"You're not on this planet," the Doctor murmured.

"You won't find me on this planet and by the time the TARDIS logs throw out the last destinations, I will be long gone. So, basically, I win," he said. He was smirking now as he spoke. "As I will the next time we meet."

The Doctor looked down and opened his fisted hand where a coin with Rassilon's head lay. It took forever for him to turn it and see that the other side had the same engraving. He swallowed and put the coin down on the console.

"Why?" the Doctor asked, looking at the Master.

The Master arched a brow in surprise and smiled, probably intending to let the Doctor believe this was a recorded message until now. "I knew you'd never do it."

"How could you be so sure?" the Doctor asked.

The Master's projection walked towards the Doctor, walking right through the center of the console until the Doctor took a step back.

The Master gave him a serious look. "I know you better than you know yourself."

"So. Now what? We go back to fighting each other?"

The Master shrugged. "We say goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Master," the Doctor whispered, the way the Master's mask seemed to slip at hearing his name not going unnoticed.

The corner of the Master's mouth turned up into an unreadable smile before he turned away to touch something the Doctor couldn't see, vanishing and leaving the Doctor standing alone. After a short eternity, he climbed the steel ladder and went to the clothing tier. He hung up the Master's suit, his eyes straying to a jacket Rose used to wear. He shed his clothes for a clean pair, running his hand along years and years of skins, his hand tugging on a long scarf and pulling it out.

Standing in front of the mirror, he wrapped the scarf around his neck and let it hang down in front. The Doctor frowned. "Fashion disaster?"

A tall curly haired ghost looked back. "Nonsense. The Master's not exactly a shining example of fashion sense himself, any kind of sense if you ask me. Besides, this here's a handy weapon," he said, pulling on the scarf. "Useful in battle with many a fiend."

The Doctor smiled, taking the scarf off and hanging it over the mirror, climbing back down into the hub. He went to the sticky mess on the console, putting on his glasses and propping his elbows by it as he leant down for a closer look. After a few moments of admiration, it dawned on him that the mess had a decidedly sugary smell. He stood up and stared, shaking his head, left with the Master's laughter echoing somewhere at the back of his mind.

**\- the end -**


End file.
